


Box Dye

by 4lis



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: For a Friend, M/M, Relationship Study, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 15:44:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18285332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4lis/pseuds/4lis
Summary: In always blue, never black, ink.For a friend.





	Box Dye

Iori is all rounded insides trapped in angles— calm calculation dressing up a bleeding heart. Riku is forever thankful for this self-imposed delusion, knowing it doesn’t hurt to know things that Iori would like to think he doesn’t. It’s why it’s worth it to feign ignorance just to see glimpses of the smiles that crack in the side of his face when he thinks Riku isn’t looking.

It’s lovely to be loved, Riku thinks, and reminds himself when the meaning of the word overbearing no longer means aggression or unpleasantries, but rather: kisses on the cheek while cleverly swiping things out of his hand, cradling his face like treasure, like sand through his fingers, _a tad too tightly._

When love starts to feel further away. It’s lovely to be loved, Riku knows, in the post-it notes scattered about the dorms (in always blue, never black, ink) and in the frequent lines he must never color outside of for his own well being.

In all of the things that he must not do.

“Let me do this.”

Riku mutters first in a breath hollowed out to fit his guilt inside. Riku then says in a voice just a notch above a whisper, stage-side and heavy as box dye. Riku mumbles it into Iori’s mouth and this is how they teach one another how best to bleed.

“Nanase-san,” Iori says no different than the way he’s always said his name (in always blue, never black, ink) and Riku struggles to find purchase in a once known land, the grave they’d both been busy digging.

_“Let me do this.”_

His hands shake but it makes no difference to him if Iori thinks this is his first time. The reality of it does not matter as much as what Iori thinks, Riku soon realizes. Riku soon realizes both of their material realities shrink like violets in the face of their own stories mapped out inside of their heads.

A poor little pauper in need of guidance, perhaps. Something small that otherwise could’ve been snuffed out by now had Iori not been there, maybe. Something like that surely. Something Riku never asked for and has no say in.

In this world, Riku finds all the flat edges of the stage and makes them his. He flattens his tongue against places most vinous. He is the prince and not for the blood in him. He is breathless and not for his biology.

You like this, Riku decides to himself. You love to tell me what I want and need but you want this. _You_ need this.

The pockets of Iori’s skin that unbunch and burn ruby sing of Riku’s great deeds not unlike his caught breaths do. Iori sheds his retention with a shudder and cry. He learns how his guts twist, turn upside-down when he finds Riku’s scalp, finds him perfectly placed, finds him perfect and wanting and waiting and warm and—

I can do this, Riku hums nearly smugly, with every note and pearl in his throat. _I can do this._

And every shade of red spills outside of the lines until Iori is dripping in it.

No gloves. No lifejacket. The scent of sweat and a bottle of box dye unravel the mysteries to self-control and Riku comes up for air.

_But I need this too._


End file.
